


you always fall for the rascal (or the guy who's got a little bit of the devil in him)

by kayteedancer



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Fic, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted mugging, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Darcy Lewis Is Not A Damsel In Distress, Drunk People Are Awful Sometimes, Explicit Language, F/M, Probable Overuse of Quotes, The Devil Saves the Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:53:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4444232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayteedancer/pseuds/kayteedancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who are you?” Darcy asked curiously as the man dropped his hands.</p><p>“Just a good Samaritan,” the man replied, shifting from side to side a tad uncomfortably. “Someone who didn’t want to see a pretty girl like you mugged."</p><p>“A vigilante then,” Darcy continued, not allowing herself to react to the compliment.  “A vigilante I haven’t heard of?  New to the scene, are you?”</p><p>“You could say that,” he hummed, leaning against the wall.  “I’ve been… helping over the years.  It’s just been recently that they gave me a name."</p><p>Something clicked in Darcy’s brain.  “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen."</p><p>[Or, five times Darcy met the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, and the one time she met Matt Murdock.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Look The Devil In the Face And Call Him A Devil

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed." - Carl Jung

* * *

Darcy really didn’t mind much about working with the Science!tists Three (she refused to give in to Tony and call them the Science! Bros because, hello, Jane was obviously a girl and that’s totes not cool), except for the freaking weird ass hours they, and by extension she, worked. 

She loved the pay (high-five for actually getting paid), loved working with Bruce and Jane and usually Tony (Tony could still sometimes be a pain-in-the-ass, but it didn’t take long for Darcy to figure out how to work him and to get Pepper Potts’s (!) number on speed dial in case she needed to call in reinforcements), and liked being a part of history in the making (building the rainbow bridge, regularly disproving the laws of physics, making huge leaps in genetics and radiation theory, and Darcy was part of it all). But that meant that she had to be on call almost 24/7 in case one of the trio had a stroke of genius.

Like tonight.

And of course Tony’s weird need to only have a certain type of coffee that they had run out of (Darcy still hadn’t figured out how to get back at Clint for that) meant that she needed to go to a specific boutique coffee shop (because Starbucks apparently didn’t count as “real coffee” to the billionaire) and pick up coffee cups and special blend from the owner. 

Because Tony had called her.  At 3:42 AM. And the lady had answered. Because that was apparently something that happened in the billionaire’s life and now happened in Darcy’s life too.

What even was her life anymore?

Darcy picked up the cups of coffee and the special blend for Tony (“Thank you so much for doing this,” she had said to the tired and obviously overworked coffee shop owner.  “No problem, I know how Mr. Stark is.  Tell him to make sure he treats Miss Potts well, you hear me?  Or he won’t get anymore of my special blend,” the other woman had replied and Darcy would have laughed if she wasn’t so sleep-deprived herself) and began her return trip to the Tower.

If she weren’t so tired, she probably wouldn’t have missed her turn to get back to the Tower. But as it was, it was now… 3:57 AM and Darcy hadn’t slept in going on 36 hours so she was lost.

She hadn’t been in New York very long, okay?  She had just moved here from London with Jane going on 3 months ago and most of her time was spent running herd over the Science!tists Three and not sight-seeing.

So sue her.

But really don’t.  Pepper would not like that and Darcy prides herself on keeping Pepper happy, keeping Jane fed and functioning, keeping Bruce not-green and functioning, and Tony… mostly functioning. Keeping Tony functioning as well as he ever does, at least.

Darcy shook her head and squinted at the dimly lit street sign.  Was she supposed to turn here or the street before?  So focused on trying to find the correct path again, Darcy didn’t hear the heavy footsteps and breathing that came up behind her.

“Give me your purse, lady, and I won’t hurt you,” a man, her mugger (!), growled out in a thick accent and Darcy felt the press of a knife in the small of her back. Watching the coffee cups shake in their carrier, Darcy tried to focus on keeping her breathing even.

“Please, don’t,” Darcy managed to get out, her voice shaking.  “Just let me put these drinks down and I’ll give you my money.”

Darcy’s mind whirled.  If she could just get to her Taser at the bottom of her purse, she could leave this guy twitching and drooling on the floor and she could call Bruce to come find her (Bruce, for all that he was unassuming, housed a giant green rage monster within and Darcy needed some of that rage monster right now).

As she moved slowly to place the coffee on the ground, Darcy felt the pressure leave her back.  She heard the smack of flesh on flesh and pained screams from her mugger before she heard the sharp crack of someone’s head meeting a metal streetlamp.

Darcy whirled around, her heart in her throat and pepper spray in hand (she couldn’t find her Taser), and scanned the shadows.  “If you’re another mugger, I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it,” she yelled, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“And while that’s absolutely terrifying, I’m not another mugger,” a deep masculine voice growled from the shadows.

Darcy squinted at the darkness and tightened her grip on her pepper spray. “Oh yeah?” she called out, her voice strengthening steadily.  She was proud of that. “Why don’t you come out and show me?”

“Only if you promise not to hurt me with your… deadly weapon,” that same voice rasped, almost sounding like he was…. Chuckling?  Dammit, the bastard was laughing at her!  Darcy growled a bit as anger flared in her briefly, but was snapped out of it as she watched a body seemed to detach itself from the shadows.

It was a man’s body, that’s for sure, muscled and toned (and gorgeous, holy shit, she wanted to lick his muscles, no, bad Darcy) and primed for a fight. He was wearing black from head to toe: black combat boots, black army pants, tight black long sleeved t-shirt and a black mask that completely obscured the top half of his face (What was up with that?  How did he see?). He stretched his (black, what other color would he wear?) gloved hands in the air in the universal signal for “non-threatening,” and Darcy saw his (gorgeous, full, pink) lips tick up in a smirk.

“Okay, now? Will you put down the pepper spray?” he asked, and Darcy found herself nodding (nodding at the guy _whose mask covered his eyes_ , smooth move Darcy), and dropped her pepper spray to her side.

“Who are you?” Darcy asked curiously as the man dropped his hands.

“Just a good Samaritan,” the man replied, shifting from side to side a tad uncomfortably. “Someone who didn’t want to see a pretty girl like you mugged.”

“A vigilante then,” Darcy continued, not allowing herself to react to the compliment. “A vigilante I haven’t heard of? New to the scene, are you?”

“You could say that,” he hummed, leaning against the wall.  “I’ve been… helping over the years.  It’s just been recently that they gave me a name.”

Something clicked in Darcy’s brain.  “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Darcy breathed.  The Devil stiffened and Darcy suddenly felt like she was being scrutinized under a microscope.  She held her breath as the Devil shifted off the wall and began walking towards her. Darcy felt her breathing quicken and fear shoot down her spine as the Devil stopped right in front of her.

“A brave man is a man who dares to look the Devil in the face and tell him he is a Devil,” the Devil murmured and Darcy felt her heart skip a beat in fear. “Well, in this case a brave woman.”

Darcy gave a shaky laugh, “Garfield, really?”

The Devil smiled so briefly that Darcy thought it just a flicker of the put upon streetlamp. “A woman who knows her presidents.”

“It rarely pays off, being a Poli Sci major, but knowing quotes from long dead presidents is one thing it was good for,” Darcy joked weakly.  The Devil seemed to relax and backed away from her a few steps. Darcy felt relief flood through her quickly enough to make her weak in the knees.

“Try not to walk around so late,” the Devil announced suddenly.  “You never know who might try to take advantage of a pretty girl not paying attention to where she’s going.”

“Darcy,” Darcy blurted out.  “My name is Darcy, not ‘pretty girl.’”

The Devil actually smiled this time and Darcy felt her heart flutter, but this time not in fear.  Bad heart, stop it now.

“Try to be more aware then, Darcy.  I won’t always be around to save you,” the Devil finished, and before Darcy could get another word out the Devil was gone.


	2. Meetings, Moments, and Impacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy saw an alley coming up on her right and took the turn hard, skidding into the wall. Pain lanced through her shoulder, but she tried to shake it off and keep running.
> 
> She didn’t shake it off fast enough.
> 
> Darcy could smell the man just before he grabbed her wrist hard and spun her to face him. The pungent smell of unwashed man, stale liquor, and vomit washed over her and she nearly gagged as he pressed her into the grimy brick wall of the alley. Darcy stared up into the man’s face with as much defiance as she could muster, trying in vain to get to her Taser (at the bottom of her purse. Again. She really needed to figure out a more easily accessible place for it because this is terrifying). 
> 
> Nat was so going to kill her.

“Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant.  Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives.” –Nadia Scrieva

* * *

 

To say that Pepper was not happy with Tony for making Darcy walk through New York City at the ass-crack of dawn was an understatement.  Tony was banished from the bedroom for a week the next time Pepper was back in New York (shut up, Tony, you totally deserve it).

To say that Tony was not happy with his new sleeping arrangement was also an understatement (Darcy was subjected to puppy eyes from the billionaire; offerings of alcohol and adoption were also included). She turned all of them down (because no, Tony, you need to learn that money, and adoptions, what even, can’t fix everything).

Tony deserved sleeping on the couch and Pepper deserved some sanity for once in her life.

But hey, a couple good things came out of her late night foray for coffee goodness.  One, she no longer had to walk through New York City in the dark.  That would just be begging for her to get mugged.  Again.  And probably not be saved by the gorgeous (mysterious, totally lickable) Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Darcy shook her head violently to dislodge the thought. She stepped off the subway and rummaged around in her purse for her keys, being borne along by the rush hour traffic. 

The second good thing about her attempted mugging, she now got off at a realistic time each day.  Barring any extraterrestrial occurrences (of the Ass-gardian variety or otherwise) (yes, she totally meant Ass-gardian, if you’ve ever seen Thor naked then you’d agree with her) (or if you’ve ever seen Sif, naked or clothed.  Girl’s ass is, literally, out of this world), or any strokes of genius that demanded her presence (“yes, Darcy, you need to come _now_ , I just had a breakthrough regarding the physics of the – no, Darcy, I am speaking English!  I’m so close to recreating the Einstein-Rosen – dammit, Darcy _, I’m going to open_ _the rainbow bridge_ , just get your ass back here!”), she got to ride the subway home with every other asshole in the city and leave the feeding and watering of her scientists to her new intern.  Which, you know, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing, but at least she now had time to catch up on Netflix.

Thirdly, she got a pay raise from Pepper.  When Pepper notified her of it, she called it, “Just a little something to help you on those days that Tony is a bit… hard to handle.” 

Darcy called it what it was: hazard pay. 

But hey, she wasn’t complaining!  That hazard pay was enough for her to rent a nice sized apartment just outside Hell’s Kitchen that (bonus) had the added benefit of not being in the same place that she worked! (And no, she totally didn’t choose the location because that’s where the Devil is!  Of course not! There were a lot of really nice apartments for rent there that didn’t cost an arm and a leg and no matter how much Darcy’s hazard pay covered, she still needed to pay off her student loans.) (Any proximity to the gorgeous vigilante that saved her was totally coincidental.) (Totally. Coincidental.) It was now a lot harder for the Science!tists Three to interrupt her sleep to spout techno-babble that Darcy couldn’t understand anyway (Poli Sci major, remember?).

Fourthly, she had the Black Widow, the most badass and gorgeous (and perfect and terrifying) woman in the world offer to teach her self-defense. “If you can’t defend yourself from a mugger, Darcy, then what’s going to happen if Hydra comes after you?” Natasha had asked and Darcy, not really feeling like being killed by Natasha’s thighs of glory (though, what a way to go that would be), had laughed it off. Darcy was a science wrangler, not an Avenger or a scientist.  And as cool as being trained as the Black Widow would be, she didn’t have any plans on being an Avenger any time soon.  So, Darcy had thanked her and told her she’d think about it (she wasn’t going to say no! Would you say no to someone that could kill you with her pinky?  No, you wouldn’t!) and started inviting her to Girls’ Nights (because, hello, Black Widow).

And lastly, she got to meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  Which… was a good and a bad thing depending on how she looked at it.  Bad because, well, there’s never a good way to meet someone during an attempted mugging even if he saved her from being injured, broke, and possibly even killed.  Good because she wasn’t injured, broke, or killed and got the benefit of ogling some grade-A superhero/vigilante meat (and she would know. She’s seen Thor naked and that was a prime specimen if there ever was one).

Now, if she could just get him out of her head, her life would be a whole hell of a lot easier, thanks very much.

Finally grasping her keys from the depths of her purse, Darcy smiled triumphantly and turned her gaze back to the work traffic.  She wades through it as best she can (and only has to glare at one bland suited asshole that thought it was acceptable to grab her ass, yay improvement) and stops, waiting for a break in traffic so she could run across.

Out of the work traffic, Darcy lets out a sigh of relief.  Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like a sardine, what with the way people push and shove her around.  Everyone’s far more important than she is, has more important things to be doing than being courteous.

Like she said before, getting out of work earlier is sometimes more of a curse than a blessing.

“Hey! Hey, lady!  Spare some change, will you?”  A rough, alcohol-sodden voice shouted over the din of honking cars. Darcy stiffened slightly and looked around cautiously, checking her peripheral vision like Thor taught her. There wasn’t too much there: some trash that everyone was too busy to pick up, an old lady waiting for the bus (and she may have been napping, but she wasn’t drunk) (at least, Darcy hoped she wasn’t drunk), and a homeless-looking man weaving his way towards her (who was definitely drunk).

Darcy sighed in relief as a break in traffic came.  She jogged across the street, gripping her purse to her stomach and clenching her keys tightly in her hands, trying to act as normally as she could (hopefully, the drunk would leave her alone).

“Hey, bitch! Yeah, you!  I’m talking to you.  What, you think you’re better than me?”  The man’s voice was even closer to her than before, and Darcy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.  He had followed her across the street (does fate hate her or something?). Darcy shifted her purse higher and began walking a bit faster.  With any luck, the man would be distracted by someone else and would leave her alone.

“Fucking bitch; I’m talking to you!  You think you’re fucking better than me just because you’ve got some fancy ass job and huge tits?” the man continued, and Darcy could hear his drunken footsteps speed up too.  Abandoning all pretenses, Darcy started running, trying in vain to get as far from the man as she possibly could. She could hear the man cursing at her, still yelling and his voice wasn’t growing any fainter. Darcy felt icy fear creep up her throat and strangle her (she wasn’t fast enough.  Shit, she knew she should have taken Nat up on her offer to train her in self-defense). (Why did this shit always happen to her? Did she have some sort of, “Hey! Come bother me!” sign on her? Did she just have one of those faces that looked like they would be okay to bother?  Because this is so not okay!)

Darcy saw an alley coming up on her right and took the turn hard, skidding into the wall. Pain lanced through her shoulder, but she tried to shake it off and keep running.

She didn’t shake it off fast enough.

Darcy could smell the man just before he grabbed her wrist hard and spun her to face him. The pungent smell of unwashed man, stale liquor, and vomit washed over her and she nearly gagged as he pressed her into the grimy brick wall of the alley.  Darcy stared up into the man’s face with as much defiance as she could muster, trying in vain to get to her Taser (at the bottom of her purse. Again.  She really needed to figure out a more easily accessible place for it because this is terrifying). 

Nat was so going to kill her.

“You think that you’re so much better than me, bitch?” the man screamed in her face, spit flying.  “You’re nothing! Look at you.  All you’re good for is your tits and ass. I bet you don’t have a single fucking thought in that fucking empty little head of yours.”

Darcy struggled against the man, pushing against his body to try to get away or to get a hand free to get her Taser, but he just flung her back into the wall. Darcy’s head cracked against the bricks and her vision spun, going black at the edges.

“You probably got your job on your back, fucking anyone you thought would get you ahead. You’re just like my fucking ex-wife; a whore just like she is!” the man slurred, shaking Darcy to emphasize his point. Darcy nearly puked, the blinding pain from her head not helping at all.

“You’re not better than me!  You’re fucking not! You need to realize that you stupid –“

The man’s voice cut off with a yelp and suddenly he wasn’t in front of her anymore. Darcy sank to the ground, trying not to puke as she took in deep breaths through her nose.

The last thing she needed was to puke right now.

“Darcy? Darcy, pretty girl, you doing alright?”

Oh, just great.  The Devil was here. And he had to save her. Again.  She was getting really tired of this shit.

“Yeah,” she gasped, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the wall. “Trying not to puke on you. I so should’ve listened to Nat.  She's going to kill me.  No one will find the body.”

She felt the Devil sit down next to her.  “Nat?” he asked as he gripped her shoulder.

Darcy nodded without opening her eyes.  “Friend of mine.  Offered to teach me self-defense.  I’m really regretting not taking her up on that offer, right now.”  The Devil was silent as he squeezed her shoulder and Darcy braved her nausea to open her eyes just a bit. 

The world wasn’t spinning so quickly and she didn’t feel quite as much like she was going to puke anymore.  Awesome.

“Yeah, you should probably have listened to her,” he stated and Darcy smiled shakily.

“Groveling will be in order.  And bribes of really good Russian vodka,” she continued.  The Devil nodded and began to rub his hand up and down her arm soothingly.

They remained that way for a few minutes while Darcy’s vision stopped spinning and her nausea went away.  Finally, she looked over at the Devil. He was wearing the same get-up that he was when he saved her from the mugger weeks ago, the all-black outfit complete with the mask covering the top half of his face. Up close, his lips looked even fuller and softer than she had imagined.  Darcy felt a flush creep up her neck and mentally kicked herself for reacting. The Devil’s face swung towards her.

“Better?” the Devil asked, his hand stilling on her arm.

“Better,” Darcy nodded and the Devil released her, rolling to his feet. Grabbing the extended hand, Darcy heaved herself up.  She could smell the Devil, sweat and man and the faint hint of blood.  Darcy inhaled and blushed when she realized what she was doing. She thought she saw the Devil smirk, but it was gone too quickly for her to tell.

“Really, Darcy,” the Devil began, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, “Be more careful.  This city isn’t safe. I won’t be here every time you’re in danger.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve had this talk already,” Darcy cut him off, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants.  “I won’t always be around to save you,” she parroted in her best deep-voiced impression of him.

The Devil just cocked his head.

“I’m going to grovel at Nat’s feet and beg her to train me in self-defense. This won’t happen again, so no need for the second lecture,” she continued as she picked up her purse and fished her keys out of the trash lining the alleyway.  “And I must say, for someone who says they won’t always be around to save me you’re two for two so far.  So..." Darcy waved her hands ineffectually. "Thanks.”

The Devil nodded gravely and turned to walk further into the alley. Darcy watched him go until she couldn’t see him anymore.  Shaking her head, she walked out the other way and continued on her way home.

Nat was going to kill her. That is, if fate didn't kill her first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I was absolutely floored by the response I got from the first chapter. Thank you so, so much you guys! This chapter is literally hot of the presses. I didn't have much of a chance to look it over, so sorry if there's a few typos and such in there. I wanted to get this out to you guys as fast as I possibly could!
> 
> The story title is from a quote by Debbie Harry. The chapter title is taken from the quote at the beginning of the chapter, which is by Nadia Scrieva.
> 
> Enjoy! And let me know what you think in the comments, please! Reviews are my life.


	3. A Bit of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just at the edges of her peripheral vision, she could make out some people that weren’t absorbed in their phones like the rest of the crowd. They also weren’t exclaiming at the Tower and the various skyscrapers they were walking past, so definitely not tourists. They were going the same way she was and never seemed to get closer or further away.
> 
> They were tailing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi? It's been a while. Life was... interesting to say the least. I was so, so busy with school and everything but now I'm on break which means I get some time to write! Yay! Please enjoy this chapter. I literally just finished writing it and don't have a beta so I'm sorry if there are some issues! Please let me know what you think in the comments. Enjoy!
> 
> The chapter title is by Gabriel Byrne and the story title is by Debbie Harry.

“I think there’s a bit of the devil in everybody.” – Gabriel Byrne

* * *

Everything hurts.  Darcy knew this would happen when she started training with Natasha, but it didn’t quite sink in until she was literally sprawled out facedown on the mats with Nat lounging above her checking her nails (and she still looks perfect.  How does she still look perfect?  It’s so not fair) (especially when Darcy is all red-faced and drowning in sweat) (stupid beautiful, deadly spysassin).

Darcy groaned into the mats and Nat stilled above her, particle board stilling from where she was filing her nails (seriously?  Where does she even have room to keep that in her suit?  It’s skintight) (not that Darcy would ever complain about that), and glanced down at Darcy.

“What was that, sestra?” Nat asked, a smirk curling her lips.  “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of weakness leaving your body.” 

Darcy flopped over onto her back and squinted up at the (deadly, beautiful) Black Widow and groaned again.  “Nat, why?” Darcy whined, shutting her eyes against the fluorescents. 

Suddenly the light cut off above her and Darcy opened her eyes to see Natasha’s (stupidly gorgeous) face just centimeters above hers.  (If Darcy didn’t think she would die in the attempt, she would definitely try to hit that) (Nat was like the Devil in female form) (oh god, Nat and the Devil would be so gorgeous together) (his muscles and that pouty mouth and Nat’s _everything_ ) (Darcy would pay to see that) (would pay to get in the middle of that even though their combined hotness would probably literally kill her).

“Darcy,” Natasha sighed, poking the prone woman with a single perfectly manicured nail.  Darcy shook herself out of her fantasies and fixed her eyes on Natasha’s green ones which were now (blessedly) further away.           

“Sestra, get your head out of the clouds,” Natasha commented, extending her hand to Darcy.

Darcy peeled her arm off of the sweaty mats and winced as she grasped Nat’s hand and allowed the redhead to yank her to her feet.  Darcy released Nat’s hand and wiped her sweaty palms on the hem of her (equally sweaty) tank top before moving to grab a towel from the laundry.  Natasha stayed silent, simply watching Darcy was she began to dry herself off.

“You know,” Nat almost purred, sauntering closer to Darcy.  “You might be able to keep yourself off the mats as much if you were able to keep your mind off the Devil.”

 Darcy tripped over her own feet.

“Wh-what are you talking about, Nat?  I’m not thinking about the Devil, no,” Darcy stuttered, wincing at how unsuccessful she was at sounding unaffected.  Nat didn’t say anything, just leveled her best unimpressed gaze at the brunette (and Darcy folded like a tower of cards.  Damn super spies).  “And it’s not like I could keep myself off the mats against you anyway,” Darcy added. “You’re you and I’m just a scientist wrangler!”         

Natasha just shook her head and turned away, walking out the gym.  “You’re much more than that, sestra,” she called over her shoulder as the doors slid shut behind her. 

“Yeah, tell that to the sweat impressions of my body all over the mats,” Darcy sighed as she tossed the used towel into a hamper.

After taking a quick shower and changing into some non-sweat soaked clothing, Darcy dragged her bruised and hurting body out of the Tower and towards a little bakery she had found that has latkes like her Bubbe always used to make. They never failed to make her feel better (also, she had just burned a crapload of calories letting Natasha throw her all across the mats.  She deserved this).

As she walked, Darcy noticed what was going on around her (situational awareness was the first thing Nat drilled her on after making her run so much her boobs ached) (Nat got her a SHIELD issue sport bra after that) (also a bra that would hold her Taser and make the girls look good.  Natasha was a goddess) and uneasiness began to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. 

Just at the edges of her peripheral vision, she could make out some people that weren’t absorbed in their phones like the rest of the crowd.  They also weren’t exclaiming at the Tower and the various skyscrapers they were walking past, so definitely not tourists.  They were going the same way she was and never seemed to get closer or further away.

They were tailing her.

Darcy felt her heartbeat gallop a bit in her chest before she forced the panic down.  This was no time for panic.  This was time (for the Devil, no stop it he won’t save her this time he was adamant about that) for Darcy to stop being the damsel and become the badass woman Nat was training her to be (though she definitely wouldn’t say no to some backup if the Devil was around). 

She needed a plan.  These people (men, the only people she can identify following her are men) (are women not allowed to be minions of evil overlords too?  Sexist much) were going to try to hurt her, maybe kidnap her, and Darcy needed a plan so she could stay unhurt and un-kidnapped.

Darcy kept walking at her same pace trying to stay relaxed, her brain going a mile a minute to figure out a good plan.  The bakery came into sight just two blocks away and Darcy felt inspiration strike.  There was an alley between the bakery and the corner grocery that Darcy could bottleneck her pursuers in and (hopefully) take them out.  It was a dead end so no one could get behind her if she got there first and the goons wouldn’t be able to bum rush her from all sides (she never said Nat’s training wasn’t paying off, just that it was brutal).

A block from the alleyway’s entrance Darcy pretended to yawn and stretched feeling her Taser slide free from where it was resting.  Readjusting her shirt, Darcy grasped her Taser and began to sprint for the alley.  The men following her caught on quickly and began running after her.  Darcy turned sharply into the alley and powered up her Taser, pressing against the wall and waiting for her pursuers.

Just as the first entered the alley Darcy fired, her Taser’s prongs attaching to the man’s face and making him go down hard.  She ejected the cartridge and began fitting another one into the Taser as two more thugs entered the alley.  She fumbled the charge button on the Taser as she ducked underneath the punch one of the men threw at her. Bringing her knee up into his stomach hard, Darcy pressed down on the button and heard her Taser whine as it began to charge. The man’s breath left his body harshly and he wheezed.  Shoving him back, Darcy brought her arm up to block the punch thrown at her stomach by the other goon (this one was female!  Woo, equal rights but boo, evil) and pressed her Taser into the woman’s shoulder letting the electric shock knock her twitching to the ground.

Darcy was so focused on the woman that she didn’t see the fist coming at her from the other male goon (sloppy, Nat would be disappointed she missed that).  It connected with her jaw and knocked her back, head swimming a bit from the impact.  Darcy shook it off quickly and turned back to the thug, ducking out of the way just in time to avoid his attempt at a bear hug.  Using his momentum against him, Darcy grabbed his head and slammed it into the brick wall until he stopped moving and slumped to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Darcy scanned the alleyway to see all her attackers either twitching on the ground or passed out cold.  Brushing back some of the hair that had escaped her ponytail with hands slightly shaking with adrenaline (she felt amazing, her jaw hurt but she felt so good) (powerful) (she could get used to that) , Darcy tried to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth to calm her heartbeat.

“Looks like you didn’t need my help after all, Pretty Girl,” a male voice rang out from behind her. Darcy jumped and whirled to face the man, hands coming up in a defensive position as she scanned for threats.

The Devil moved his hands away from his body and opened them wide in the universal signal for unarmed (not that he was ever unarmed. his body was totally a weapon) (a gorgeous weapon) as he moved away from the shadows and towards Darcy cautiously.

“Are you HYDRA, AIM?” she ground out, clenching her fists and feeling the goons dried blood crack over her knuckles.  “Stop where you are and answer me!”

The Devil froze and Darcy felt that laser-sharp focus on her again.  “You mean like the Nazis?  That HYDRA?  Didn’t Captain America take them down? And what’s AIM?”

Darcy exhaled shakily as she dropped out of her defensive stance, a full body shiver taking over her.  He couldn’t be HYDRA, couldn’t be AIM.  He was just a vigilante that had a penchant for showing up right when she needed him (or after, because she totally saved herself this time). As she relaxed, the Devil casually stepped over the thug whose head she had bashed into the wall and Darcy felt her body shake as she realized what she had done.

“Hey, hey, Darcy, look at me.  You’re going to be alright, it’s all going to be okay,” the Devil soothed as came to a stop in front of her.  “They would have hurt you, you did nothing wrong.”

“Is he dead?” she gasped, tears burning her eyes as her jaw throbbed.  “Did I kill him?”

The Devil’s head cocked to the side and Darcy waited for an answer, too busy trying not to hyperventilate to focus on much else.

“No, he’s alive,” he said after a moment.  “Head wounds just bleed a lot.  He’ll probably have a nasty concussion when he gets back to his employers, but he’ll be fine.”

Darcy sighed in relief (she hadn’t killed him, he was alive, _alive_ ) (she wouldn't have been able to live with herself if he was dead) and sagged against the Devil, burying her head in his shoulder.  The Devil stiffened, uncomfortable with the contact no doubt (Darcy didn’t care, she just really needed this right now), before resting a hand on her hair.  Darcy burrowed even further into him, breathing in the smell of the Devil (surprisingly not a lot of sulfur, more sweat and metal than fire and brimstone) and pushing the tears down.

“Hey, you’re alright Pretty Girl.  You didn’t need anyone to save you,” his voice rumbled through his chest and Darcy shivered in response as his baritone vibrated through her bones (she’s crashing from adrenaline, okay?  Give a girl a break).  The Devil’s hand dropped to her neck and Darcy felt the small circles he rubbed there, worn leather on skin.  Pulling away just the tiniest bit, Darcy looked up and realized just how close she was to the Devil (those pouty pink lips so, so close.  Did they taste as good as they looked?).  Mustering up some courage, Darcy began to close the distance between them as the Devil dropped his head towards her -

Darcy’s phone chose the worst moment to begin obnoxiously blaring “Who Run the World?”  The Devil jerked away from her and just like that the moment had passed.  Sighing heavily, Darcy turned to search for her discarded purse and the source of the moment-ruining music (Beyoncé may be the Queen, but who knows if she’d ever have the opportunity to get at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen again).  When she found the offending purse, she fished out her cell phone and hit accept before it could go to Voicemail.

“Hey Pep,” Darcy sighed, exhaustion clouding her thoughts.  “I’m going to need an assist.  Knocked out some thugs that were trying to get the drop on me.  Can you send Nat?”  

As Pepper quickly switched into business mode, telling Darcy that Nat was already on her way and to go to the bakery (Darcy had long ago given up trying to figure out how Natasha knew everything, she just did), Darcy looked around for the Devil only to be met with the sight of the knocked out thugs and an empty alleyway.

He was gone.  But hey, at least she saved herself this time (even if she didn’t get to kiss the Devil that takes up all of her thoughts). Sighing heavily, she dragged a hand down her face before groaning in disgust at the blood covering her hands. 

As she headed for the bakery, she remained unaware of the Devil crouching on the roof next door listening to her shuffling, tired steps as she walked away, wishing that he had gotten to taste her lips just one time.

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea randomly and it wouldn't let me go until I began to write it. As such, I don't have anything pre-written so sorry! I'll do my best to get a chapter up soon, within the week if everything goes well.
> 
> Reviews are my life's blood so if you like this story so far or have some criticism that would help me improve, let me know in the comments section!
> 
> The story title comes from a quote by Debbie Harry, and the chapter title (paraphrased from the quote the Devil uses in the chapter) is from President James Garfield.


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